


Between Brothers

by modernnature



Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Afterlife, Brothers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/modernnature/pseuds/modernnature
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the afterlife, Agron meets up with the one person who knows him best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Brothers

The pain of crucifixion was beyond imagining. To be fully alert, to feel each nail puncturing skin, muscle, and bone was the definition of the word agony. Agron could imagine the pain with astonishing clarity and yet… here he felt nothing but comfort. 

The air around his body was cool and soothing, though not so cold as to cause gooseflesh. His eyes were closed, yet he could feel the warmth of the sun radiating over his exposed skin, comforting and warm like a blanket. His arms were still outstretched in the position the crucifixion had forced him to assume, yet there was no wooden cross against his back, no too-small footrest for him to teeter on. Agron’s eyelids felt weighted, and he was loath to drag them open to see the open expanse of sand laid out before him. But then a soft command was uttered before him. 

“Öffne deine Augen, Bruder.”* 

That voice. It was a voice that Agron had known as familiarly as his own, once. 

His eyes snapped open, and he nearly fell at the sight that greeted him. 

Duro. His beloved brother, younger by four years, stood before him with that shit-eating grin plastered onto his ever-young face. The same grin that used to cause Agron’s blood to boil and make him want to shove his brother’s face into the dirt now elicited a wail of grief, elation, and overwhelming love. 

His brother looked the same as Agron remembered him. His hair was still in the dreadlocks that they had worn in their home east of the Rhine. His nose and ear were cheekily pierced, the jewelry adorning them glittering in the sun. He was young and hale and happy, and it made Agron’s heart soar to see it so. 

“You’re early,” Duro said crossly, scolding his older brother shamelessly. But before Agron had time to dwell on what his words meant, Duro had reached forward and was pulling Agron out of his spread-armed stance. Agron expected pain, had expected to feel the nails being ripped out of his flesh, but there was no pain. There was only the warmth of Duro’s embrace, one he had missed so desperately in the past year and a half. 

Agron gripped his brother tightly, afraid to ever let go. “Is this a dream?” he muttered, feeling his brother’s body shake a little as Duro laughed at him. 

“No, Agron, this isn’t a dream. You’re in the afterlife.” 

A wave of sadness rushed over Agron at those words. He had known, of course, that he was likely destined for the afterlife by following Crixus on his suicidal march to Rome, but it didn’t make the news any less difficult to bear. All he could think of was the look on Nasir’s face as he had explained his intentions to follow the Gaul. The way his lover’s chin had quivered, the sadness and confusion in his dark eyes, the way the hug had been a clear goodbye. He took a deep, shaking breath before meeting eyes with his brother again. 

“So I am dead, then,” he murmured lowly. 

“For now,” Duro confirmed with a short nod. 

Agron couldn’t help but narrow his eyes suspiciously at Duro. “What do you mean, for now?” Duro smiled enigmatically, and if Agron hadn’t been so happy to see his brother, he would have punched him in the throat. With a frustrated growl, Agron changed the subject. He knew that Duro would not say another word until he was good and ready to. Stubborn jackass.

“So, if this is the afterlife, like you say, then where is everyone else? Oenomaus, Donar, Crixus?” Agron hadn’t personally witnessed the execution of the fucking Gaul, but he had been imprisoned with Naevia for a short while after their capture, and it hadn’t taken him long to notice that she was half-mad with grief. The thought of her without Crixus made his chest ache almost as badly as when he thought of himself without Nasir, or Nasir without him. 

“They’re here,” Duro assured him with a casual smile. “Happy, mostly, though Crixus is still an unbearable cunt. He always has something to get angry about.” The brothers shared a laugh at Crixus’ expense. “But the others sent me here alone alone to talk to you, to explain. They assumed you would be more comfortable with me.”

“A thing for which I am most grateful,” Agron said fervently. He clasped arms with his brother, pressing their foreheads together. Duro gave him an emotional grin, his hand going to grip the back of Agron’s neck. They stayed that way for a moment longer, soaking up the sensation of having their brother back in their grasp. 

“So, show me where to go, Duro. I would see my friends again.” Agron pulled away and began to walk before Duro grabbed his arm to halt his movement. 

“No, brother, I cannot show you where I reside. You cannot stay here.” Duro’s voice was heavy with emotion, but it was steady, confident in what he was saying. 

Agron staggered away, stunned. “I cannot stay?” What had he done to bar himself from entry into the afterlife? “But I am dead, Duro. You said it yourself.”

Duro reached out to steady Agron by the shoulders. “Do you never listen?” he chastised teasingly with a smile. “Yes, you are dead, but only for this moment. You are here too early. You are meant to live a fuller life with Nasir at your side.” Agron flinched in surprise, and Duro’s grin grew. “Yes, I know of Nasir. Did you truly believe I would not be looking after you, laughing when you acted a fucking idiot? But I have also seen your bravery, Agron. And I have been proud to call you my brother.” His smile faded, and Agron didn’t have time to prepare himself before Duro reached around to cuff his brother upside the head. “But what you have done to your relationship with Nasir was fucking shit, Agron.”

Rubbing the back of his head, Agron glared at his younger brother. “What I did, I did for him, Duro. Do you think it was an easy task? I love him with all of my heart.”

“Then go back and tell him that! He has put up with you for this long. He deserves to know your feelings for him. That’s why you will go back. And because Spartacus needs you at his side to end this war once and for all, one way or another.”

“You would send me back to die again?” Agron demanded. 

“I am sending you back to finish your life, brother. You go back to repair what is broken between you and your man, and then you stand beside Spartacus and make the last stand in battle against the Roman shits.” 

Agron shook his head, fear creeping like bile in his throat. “I cannot,” he insisted in a raspy voice. “If you send me back, I will perish on the cross.”

“Do you think your friends would let you die that way? They already mourn your loss, Agron. Do not extend fucking misery.” Pain, fear, and hope warred on Agron’s face, and when he turned to his brother, there were tears in his eyes. 

“It will hurt, going back,” he said fearfully, recalling the physical agony of the crucifixion. 

“When has that stopped you before?” Duro chuckled weakly. 

“It means I will have to part with you again,” Agron said in a pained voice. Duro shook his head. 

“Only for now, Agron. I will be here waiting to greet you when you meet your proper end.” They exchanged wet smiles, both succumbing to the tears that had been building. 

“I will miss you, brother,” Agron whispered thickly, wiping some of the tears away.

“And I you, brother. But I will never be far from heart or thought, and we will meet again.” Agron’s eyes closed as he felt Duro’s lips press against his forehead, a mirror of the kiss he’d placed to Duro’s after he’d died. 

The next thing Agron knew was pain. From every pore, a sharp stabbing or a dull, unbearable ache radiated through his body. His lips parted in a desperate gasp, his eyes flying open as his body readjusted to having life inside it again. Immediately, Nasir was at his side, shouting for Spartacus and running desperate hands over Agron’s hair and face. In spite of the pain, Agron smiled up at his love, tears running down his cheeks, the ghost of a kiss still lingering on his forehead.

**Author's Note:**

> *"Open your eyes, brother."


End file.
